


Fragments of Bravery

by RainbowMage



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Swords & Sorcery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowMage/pseuds/RainbowMage
Summary: On my quest for treasure I find myself involved in something much bigger: stopping a cult from reviving dead gods.  No matter what, failure is not an option.





	1. Akiri's Journal 1

To whomever may read this,

You have found my journal it seems. I guess this means you’ve found my body in the place that I died. I am Akiri Steelfang of the Howling Moon tribe. I do not expect anyone to actually read this since it is not my intention to fall in battle, but I figured I should write down what happens to me on my journey just in case I do so that the story may make it back to my family. So, if you are reading, I beg of you to take this journal as well as my rapier and short sword back to my people in the foothills of Urdan. Both my tribe and my spirit would be most grateful. 

Allow me to tell you a bit about myself and my tribe to ease any worries you may have about me. My tribe is made up of proud warriors, longtooth shifters all of us. For generations we have lived in the pine forests at the base of the mountains of the kingdom of Urdan. It is our sacred duty to kill the dangerous beasts and bandits roaming the forest in order to keep the area safe. I, along with all the children of the Howling Moon, was trained to be a warrior ever since childhood. I am considered the best swordswoman in the Steelfang clan, though many would claim that this means nothing.

When I was a young child, my mother was considered the best of the best. That is, until the injury that changed her life. She had been in combat with a dire wolf near the edge of a small cliff. During their fight, both she and the dire wolf tumbled off the edge. She fell twenty feet and landed on her back, breaking her spine. While she survived, she was never able to walk, let alone fight, again. 

Sadly, amongst my tribe, those who can’t fight are considered weak, no matter the circumstances. Others claimed that if she was truly strong, she would have won that battle all those years ago. My mother is the head of the Steelfang clan, and the only clan leader who cannot fight. Thus, the Steelfangs are considered the weakest link among the tribe.

As I grew up, it became apparent that my peers treated my sisters and me differently. Less was expected out of us than the other children. I was too young at the time to understand, but now I know that it was because I am a Steelfang. I grew weary of being treated differently, so as soon as I became of age, I left my home in pursuit of glory in order to prove my clan’s strength. 

I started my quest for glory as a mercenary but found that there was little glory to be had in such an occupation. Then I tried being a freelance monster hunter. It paid well yes, but my quarry was often minor; beasts I have known how to hunt and kill since childhood. I did this up until very recently, when I heard rumors about a treasure being pursued by only the bravest of treasure hunters. 

That rumor piqued my interest. I could only imagine the glory I would earn from finding this treasure myself and bringing it home to my tribe. If I succeeded, none would doubt my clan again. Though if it turned out it wasn’t real, I would be the laughingstock of the tribe for years to come. The thought of wealth and glory was too tempting, however. I decided to make it my goal to either find the treasure or prove its nonexistence. 

Unfortunately, returning home and telling my tribe of my intentions was a mistake. They merely laughed at me, telling me that it was a fool’s errand. That was the last straw. This was no longer just about glory. I was no fool, and I was going prove it. 

I guess then, dear reader, that if I’m dead I was a fool after all. Regardless, I would rather my family know the truth of what happened to me than not know at all. So, with that said, again I ask that you return my journal and my weapons to my tribe. Obviously, I can’t make you do anything now, but just know that you would be making a warrior’s soul happy if you did. 

If you were the one who slayed me however, know that someday my tribe will find you. Once they do, you won’t be alive to regret your actions. 

Anyway, I have said enough. This is where I leave you. I will not address you any further throughout this journal. So, without any further ado, here is my tale.


	2. Akiri's Journal 2

I found myself in the kingdom of Shar, searching for work to fund my expedition. I took the first job I could find; the kingdom had put out a call for a militia who were to investigate a town that had gone quiet for several weeks. 

When I arrived at the gathering space, I couldn’t help but notice what a ragtag bunch they were. Some looked to be adventurers like me, well-armed and wearing fine armor of various types. Some appeared to be normal townsfolk, young and old, carrying pitchforks and other farm tools that could double as weapons. I did not see anyone in Shar military uniform, but apparently there was an issue at the border that needed to be dealt with, hence the need for a militia. 

Anyway, once all were gathered, we were briefed on the mission by the head of the investigation. The capitol had not heard any news from the town of Citroton in weeks, which was highly unusual. The last time something like this happened, a band of goblins had set up camp along the road and killed any messengers who went by, so the hope was that it was something just as mundane. In any case, we were all placed in groups of five, who we were to stick with for the duration of the investigation. 

Admittedly I was relieved to find I wasn’t placed with any of the farm tool-wielding townsfolk. If we were to end up in combat, untrained farmers would be more of a liability than a help. As confident as I am in my abilities, I am still just one person. If a battle were to happen, I couldn’t fight multiple foes on my own as well as protect the defenseless. 

The four in my group gave introductions on the road to the town, a journey that took the bulk of two days. What an intriguing bunch they were.

The first was a red-scaled dragonborn man with twisted horns and a calm demeanor. He introduced himself as Vintus, the apprentice of Shar’s Hunter. I’d never met a Hunter myself, but to my understanding, they are powerful warriors who hunt down necromancers wherever they appear. The entire continent of Druash is indebted to them; were it not for the Hunters, it is likely that many towns would be overrun by the undead. When I remarked about how he must be skilled, Vintus denied it, saying he was no better at magic than any other sorcerer in the world. I was surprised by his modesty. I would’ve thought a Hunter’s apprentice to have more of an ego, but I suppose I was wrong. 

The second introduced herself as Vivi, a purple-haired human wizard who was a student at the Academy of the Blue Halls in Urdan. She had been sent on a journey by her master to see the world, since there was much she could learn outside of books. Despite being a grown woman, she struck me as being rather naïve, but I am not sure I could say why. If nothing else, she was excitable and cheerful and listened eagerly when I told her of my tribe. 

Vivi had a strange creature with her, a small, red, demonic looking thing with tiny horns and wings. An imp, she said he was, named Jinx. He was her familiar. Now, I know little of magic, but as far as I know, some magic users form magical bonds with small creatures who act as lifelong companions and friends. I did not ask how she ended up bonded to a demon, but the poor creature clung to her arm as if his life depended on it and shook in terror nearly the entire trip to Citroton. 

The third, a minotaur named Gorgos, said very little other than that he was the protector of a forest. He was soft-spoken for sure and seemed rather timid, a trait I would not have expected from one of his size. Curiously, his eyes were void of pupils and glowed green with magic. Made me wonder what kinds of powers he had. 

The last, a goliath named Thenea, also said little but I do not think it was out of shyness. She struck me as unfriendly and reserved, odd traits for a priestess of the goddess Magnor. I’d think that a woman of the cloth would be more friendly and empathetic, but instead she spent half the journey eyeing Vivi as though she were a threat. She even went so far as to ask Vivi if she was a demon cultist. As unfriendly as she seemed, I can’t help but feel like there’s more to the story. Her arms and one of her eyes were covered in bandages; not exactly what I’d call a fashion statement. She must be hiding something. What it is, I have no guess.

Other than Thenea, they made for good company, mercifully. I will be intrigued to see how they fare in battle if it ends up coming to that.


End file.
